


Blisters On His Fingers

by deeblue



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Injury, John is dirty, M/M, Mutual Pining, george helps out with ringos hands, george is nervOUS, paul is tired, ringo gets flirty by the end, ringo is soft, suprises kisses at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 12:11:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18249584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deeblue/pseuds/deeblue
Summary: George can't help but watch Rory Storm and The Hurricanes play, but John and Paul know he just has his eyes for their drummer. Ringo has some problem with his hands, and George may just see his perfect opportunity to talk to the handsome drummer.





	Blisters On His Fingers

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this lovely Beatles art by Cirilee on Tumblr!!!! :o 
> 
> http://cirilee.tumblr.com/post/183071306852/something-for-those-blisters

The thick air and beat of the band had George completely out of his head. They weren’t the best, George knew him and the lads were much better, and could really bring down the house, but that didn’t mean he wanted to miss a second of that steady tempo. It was past midnight now, and the set was nearly done, but George ought to have left by now. Their set had been finished hours ago, but here he was, sitting at the furthest table he could find watching a particular pink suited fellow bash away at the skins. The back beat, his quick wrists, the way his head bobbed back and forth, messy Teddy curls bouncing about with that cute white streak on the sides-

“George!”

A startlingly familiar voice broke George’s attention.

“Geez Paul! What do you want?

George turned to his bandmate, trying very hard to not to shove him off the chair beside him. He was being way too distracting. Too distracting from the beat of those heavy drums, either that or the beat of his heart at the moment.   

“Geo, I’ve been calling you for the past five minutes. It’s getting late, we need to head back to the theater for some sleep.”

“But, can’t we-”

“Sorry George, but it’s getting real exhausting watching you gush over the Hurricane’s drummer, and y’know Paulie needs his beauty sleep.”

George stared wide eyed, opposite of Paul was John lounging with his boots rucked on the table. Had he really forgotten they were both here?

“We usually don’t mind it Geo, but you’ve done this same thing the past two weeks, and you haven’t tried  _ once _ to talk to Ringo.” Paul added, shoving John’s boots off the table, and standing up to look down sympathetically at the young guitarist.

George felt his throat go dry. He hoped that the other lads hadn’t noticed, but he supposed it was strange now that he thought about those _ two weeks _ .

“I don’t know w-what you’re both on about. I don’t have a thing for him! I just appreciate his… drumming that’s all. He’s 10 times better than Pete is.” George figured he could snipe about Pete considering he wasn’t here anyhow. George definitely saw Ringo as a superior drummer, and took plenty of opportunities to point it out, though the lads may think he has other motives for it, he really saw Ringo’s talent for drumming, not just for… well, Ringo.

“Sure you do Georgie, and I’m sure you’d get to appreciate a lot  _ more _ than just his drumming, if you stopped starin’ at him, and tried talking to him. Alone.” John smirked, now standing beside Paul who was sporting a very uncomfortable glare John’s way

“What John means to say is, maybe you could give it a try, huh? Just give it a chance? You clearly fancy- or um…  _ appreciate _ him, so why not at least try?” Paul affirmed with an encouraging smile.

“You both act like we’ve never spoken before or something! We see them every week after all.” George murmured, running out of excuses. It was true that the infamous Beatles knew Rory Storm and The Hurricanes. They all occasionally shared drinks or chats between sets, but it was true. George hadn’t spoken with Ringo alone with out someone else facilitating the conversation around them as a group.

“Well then! Guess we’ll leave you to it then! Paul and I are going to go get some well needed shut eye, but don’t you come home until you’ve figured out what little drummer boy’s favorite type of snog is.” John teased, while he tugged on Paul jacket sleeve who looked almost like he had half a mind to stay with George if it meant not having to hear anymore of John’s lewd banter on the walk back to their crummy sleeping arrangements.

The two left a wide eyed wreck at the table by himself. George knew from listening to each gig that the band would be done after this one last song. There was no way George was going to be able to do it. He was already petrified by John’s teasing. If he fucked this up, they’d know as soon as they saw him. The embarrassment would be plastered on his face.

_ No, after this last song, I’m leaving. No more of this. _

Of course, it was hard to know if that were true. Considering George could melt watching Ringo hammer on those drums for the last number, a particularly loud one with a crushing drum beat. George hadn’t recognized it from his last visits, so it must have been a new edition to the Hurricane’s repertoire.

If anything George liked it a lot, he liked seeing the drummer smile as he hit the symbols with fever, clearly energized by the feel of the new song, even in the dead of night. It only made it even more disappointing when the song ended, and the band already started to disperse from the stage.

Once again, George was going to leave regretfully. He almost wished it didn’t have to end, and that he could stay and watch Ringo play forever.

George stood up from the back table, and was ready to make a beeline for the door when he heard a small familiar voice back at the stage.

“Aw shucks…”

He glanced for barely a second, and knew right away it was Ringo. He was looking down at his palms from the side of the stage. They must have been aching from those heavy drum sets of the night, especially with that last number being so raucous.

George can’t be sure where it came from, but before he could get even get to the door, he found himself sneaking away to the back of the bar counter.

It was a bit messy, but behind countless bottles of old beer, was a familiar first aid kit. A ratty white box, probably standard issue for the establishment. He remembered Paul borrowed it from the barkeep after John busted his nose in a typical bar fight. That had been real messy, John’s blood was still stained on the floor boards, nasty business that had been.

He shook away the thought, and quickly looked for something to help. Rummaging past old dried bandaids, and some empty disinfectant. George got a hold of a roll of untouched wrapping bandages. Once in hand, he took a quick peek over the counter. Ringo was alone right where George last saw him. The place was practically empty, save for the bartender and the other Hurricanes having after show drinks.

George straightened his shoulders, took a few breaths, and quickly checked his reflection on the nearest bottle of stale liquor. George ran his fingers through the tuff of hair tall upon his head making sure he didn’t look like a complete mess . With shaking hands, he gave himself one last glance, and prepared for the embarrassment of a lifetime.

Ringo sat about on a red stool, still having a look at his calloused palms. George had to admit, he looked cute, even in a dirty shit club like this. George sucked in his next breath, strode over to the handsome drummer, and pulled up a stool beside him. George attempted to give a suave smile, but quickly dissipated when he met eyes with his subject of interest.

“Hey there George! Whatcha got there?”

George went mute for a solid five seconds. That’s it. No words. He forgot how to use his vocal chords.

_ You daft git! _

If the fellas could see him now. A fool, that’s right, a bleeding fool. Can’t even talk, doesn’t even know what to say.

“Uh..George?”

“-Thought you could use a hand.” There, he did it. A bit late, but he did it.

_ Might have cut him off too, but let’s just ignore that for now. _

George, now finally catching up with reality pulled the end of the bandage tape.

“I mean- you’re hands bothering you?”

Ringo smiled, then looked at his palms again. “Just a few blisters, you don’t have to…”

“No really, it’s no trouble, you really were gear on those drums tonight! It’s the least I could do Ritchie.”

_ Ritchie? Why would you call him that? You don’t even know if he likes that? What are you- _

Shaking away his inner monologue, Geo took Ringo’s palm into his hands, and started wrapping it up.

Ringo was watching George as he cared for him, he looked rather comfortable. Legs outstretched a tad. With a calm… almost endearing expression. George figured it was just his tired eyes from the long gig. Those eyes, looking now, were even more blue up close. Bluest eyes he’d ever seen alongside those drooping lids. George tried to avoid them, he wanted to make sure his wrap on Ringo had a firm hold. But they were so pretty…

“So, who’s the bird?”

All the way from left field, was the most confusing question Ringo could’ve asked. George’s eye squinted a bit, and his head tilted as if trying to find this mysterious “bird”.

“Bird?”

Face gone red, Ringo looked flushed, and slowly took his bandaged hand back. “ Oh! I just assumed- that, um… I mean, you’ve come to every gig these few weeks. I figured you might have your eyes on a girl.”

“I- no! No, girl, I mean- I don’t fancy a girl. N-no girl.” George stammered, reaching for Ringo’s other palm. Ringo seemed to relax at the statement, and allowed Geo to continue the wrap. George was only now aware of how close the two had gotten. He wondered if Ringo could hear his heart beating like it was, or if he was counting the seconds until Geo was finished and could leave.

“Almost done, promise.”

“Not too quickly I hope.” Ringo quipped with a toothy grin. George about swooned. Here he was with  _ Ringo Starr _ . The lads would have field day if they saw him right now. Saw how smiley he was, or knew how much his cheeks hurt from it.

“Trust me, this is probably the highlight of my week.” George chuckled, clearly getting more courageous. Ringo somehow made it so easy, he was calm, collected, and that goofy grin was real easy on the eyes, as was everything else about the fellow. Despite Ringo being older than him, he didn’t feel like a child like he did with John and Paul sometimes. He was 18 now, not some kid, and Paul was  _ barely _ any older than him anyhow. What if Ringo did see him as some kid though? George had a young face after all. Ringo was scruff n’ruff lookin’. He and the boys were even scared of him at one point before actually having the pleasure meet him. 

George was nearly done, and with another quick look he noticed those pretty grey streaks on Ringo’s temples. Without thinking, George’s hand reached up to the side of Ringo’s cheek, and gently smoothed the temple streak down. Ringo flinched, not moving away, and George was just now realizing what his hand was doing. He didn’t move though, he couldn’t, he wasn’t quite sure what Ringo was thinking, or what he himself was either.

Ringo was so flustered, but the hand by his cheek and temple was so… tender, that he couldn’t help but lean into the touch.

The bandage roll fell to the floor. George’s other hand came to rest on Ringo’s lower jaw, his index finger traced the softness of his skin. He could feel Ringo’s breath exchange with his own, and gently he saw the hooded blue eyes of the drummer he so admired all these weeks.

“T-these make you look real handsome y’know.” It wasn’t really a question, just some of those weeks of frustration, and gawky coming out in the open. Geo was barely keeping it together, but he’d come this far, and Ringo seemed to be… comfortable, with all his touches that is.

Those teddy curls, and those parted lips. His eyes rested on them, and he could feel his cheeks blush. He didn’t want to ruin it, this atmosphere filled with tension, he hesitated, but those blue eyes drew him in, and soon his own closed, and he pressed his lips softly onto the other lad’s. There was no pull away, and they pressed on, testing the feeling, relishing it, actually. It was unbelievably gentle. Ringo’s lips were so soft on his, and could feel him smiling into it too.

George felt Ringo’s hands rest on his seated waist. He could feel the stubbling beard on the drummer’s chin tickle his own, causing a fit giggle to escape his mouth. They drew back, now both red faced, and clearly awe struck. Ringo leaned forward, and rested his forehead on George’s, still sporting that smile that had just rested on his very own lips. Geo could feel a chuckle in his throat. He should have done this much sooner. Had he known this would have resulted with a kiss like _ that _ ... 

“It’s you Ritchie.” George lamented.

“Hmm, me?” Ringo murmured, still dazed, trying to wrap his mind around that kiss…

“You’re the reason I’m here. Every night I mean, I love to watch you drum, and- I was just too scared to talk to you without the lads around.” George now moved his cupped hands from Ringo’s face. Allowing these confessions to come out in the open.

“You… like to watch me drum?” Ringo said. 

“Well yes, but not really, I like... to see  _ you _ .” George quickly avoided Ringo’s eyes, ringing his hands together in his lap as he scooted away slightly. George couldn’t believe he’d just told Ringo that. It sounded so stupid for him to say out loud, and Ringo probably thought he was a creep, or something. George thought he ought to just leave. He sounded pathetic-

George felt a finger hooked under his chin, gently turning his head to meet with fond eyes, and once again breaking his train of thought.

“Well, I’m right here aren’t I? Might as well have a look.”

George almost wanted to pinch himself. This was like a dream he once had, of course with less open mouth kisses on his neck… and cake, he remembered there was a cake somewhere. Seemed like a good cake, chocolate maybe? Does a Ringo like chocolate? Should he ask? Maybe he should? It would be a little off topic to say the least. Maybe he should ask about those kisses? Probably not- that would would be a little forward of him. Maybe he’ll just go with the cake.

“Gosh, looks like the bands’ left.” George broke from his recounting to turn back at the bar. Ringo was right, Rory and the gang seemed to have already hightailed it out of here without im’. It was rather secluded back here, definitely a darker spot in the place. The bartender himself was far to busy sweeping away behind the counter to even notice the two of them settled in the back.

“You probably should be off then, I still got to pack up me drums.” Ringo said standing from the stool.

George, though disappointed at the idea of leaving, felt pretty exhausted. He wished he could fall asleep right here beside Ringo but- well, this place is filthy, so not exactly the most ideal spot to pass out beside the lad you fancy.

“You don’t need any help with those?” George yawned, trying desperately to extend the time he had with Ringo as much as he could.

Ringo chuckled. “No, you go on, and get some sleep. I’ve got it. But-”

Ringo shuffled a bit, and he cleared his throat. “Will I see you again tomorrow?”

George felt his mouth open agape. Tomorrow! He wanted to see him again? Him? George Harrison? Tomorrow- wait.

“You don’t have a gig tomorrow.” George said, clear confused to how Ringo could forget he wouldn’t even be playing tomorrow.

“I know, but… will I see you?”

Oh. OH-

George smiled the dumbest smile he had ever smiled EVER.

“YES- I mean! Yes, yes I’d love to see you tomorrow.” George gushed. John was right, he was gushy wasn’t he? Who cares, Ringo Starr just may just asked him on a date, how would he  _ not _ be gushy?

“Great! I’ll see you then Georgie.” Ringo quirked his lip up, and gave him a wave with a bandaged hand.

_ Georgie, he called me Georgie, that’s the cutest shit I’ve ever heard. _

Walking out the bar entrance onto the street, George was already fantasizing of what he was going to tell John and Paul when he burst into-

Oh, wait. One last thing.

He sprinted back like mad through the bar door, and straight to Ringo and his drum kit.

“Ringo! One last thing, please  _ don’t ask _ why, just know John is an absolute pain in my arse- what’s your favorite type of… kiss?” George could practically die, but the confused look on Ringo’s face faded changing into a mischievous grin.

Before he knew it Ringo’s hand slid behind his lower back, and they were pulled flush together. George gasped at the suaveness of the motion, and stared straight into those blue hooded eyes. Suddenly, Ringo leaned up to meet Geo on his tippy toes, and sweetly nuzzled his nose against George’s, then promptly pulled away with a cheeky wink, leaving a gaping George barely standing on his feet at Ringo’s answer.

“Eskimo.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think by leaving a comment!!! I have no idea if my fic is any good.


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